is the serpent in the word
hidden within the ink
and sound of tongue touching
teeth
the small poisonous lisp of S
that begins the name never to be said
is the door at the end of the sentence
slammed as gently as death
footsteps upon the heart’s concrete steps
the whine
in the constricted hinge
of the gate being shut.
is the stare
out at the wallpaper that does not change
except to the mind’s lament
that can conjure a face
a smell
a remember caress.
is the god that howls
beneath the mattress
each crinkle coil of a yelp
given to the turning
to the all and away
as dreams sway time back to hope.
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